


Heart-Wounds

by sedco0125



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Gen, Magical Realism, Self-Hatred, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, self-care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22873552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sedco0125/pseuds/sedco0125
Summary: Small piece I wrote for a class.
Relationships: None
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Heart-Wounds

Heart-Wounds

I stared at the mirror. Blood continued to slowly drip from the hole in my chest, my heart-wound. Even after I tried to wipe the sleep from my eyes, its size remained the same. It was bigger than yesterday, now the size of a baseball. I could stick my hand completely through my chest if I tried to.

It throbbed dully. I ignored it as usual and got ready for the day. What day was it? Oh, Friday. I went through my schedule: 8 a.m., organic chemistry; 9 a.m, two-hour biology lecture; 11 a.m., three-hour chemistry lab. Ok, I breathed. I had an exam at 8 a.m. – it was the reason I didn’t sleep last night; I was studying. Not that it was much help. Phrases swam and dashed away in my mind: alkoxides, protonation, organo-halogens. I had no idea what any of them meant. I was going to fail the exam. I was going to fail it and fail the class and my mom was going to be disappointed in me and I was going to have to retake the class and I hated orgo so much I could cry-

I take a breath.

My heart-wound throbbed.

I got up from my desk and left my room, not even bothering to change my clothes from yesterday. They were just sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and I could care less about my appearance right now. In the kitchen, my roommate Elena was cracking eggs on a fry pan.

“Good morning,” she yawned at me, giving me a soft but bright smile.

I responded with just a lazy wave, but she wasn’t bothered. She knew I wasn’t a morning person. She also knew me well enough to know that I had an exam today and I hadn’t slept. This was our second year living together and we were familiar with each other’s living patterns.

I glanced at her chest and could see the pinpricks of a small cut on her chest, much smaller than mine. But I knew she had just finished a huge group project and her cut was from the stress of it. It was already healing now that the projected was done. When I met her eyes again, I saw her worried expression looking at my own chest. Even though she couldn’t see it, she could guess how big my heart-wound was. She didn’t bring it up, instead asking “Do you want an egg?”

“No, thanks,” I said. My stomach rolled uneasily. I always got nauseous when I didn’t sleep.

Elena tossed me a banana. “You need to eat something,” Wordlessly, I began peeling it and grabbed my backpack to leave. As I walked out the door she called out, “You’ll do great!”

“I’m going to fail!” I shouted back.

I pull out my phone to listen to music and realize I’ve forgotten my earbuds. I guess my entertainment is whatever the girls from the apartment below mine are talking about. One of them squeals, “And when she broke up him, his heart-wound got so big! It was kind of gross.” “I know! I had to double check that mine wasn’t that big,” “Same, ugh they better get back together in the next episode!” They were talking about some television show, I realized. Shows always dramatized heart-wounds. They were either gaping, or nonexistent; the worse the wound, the worse the person was mentally.

In the real world, people usually got small cuts like Elena’s from stress, maybe a fight. Big heart-wounds only happened when something devasting occurred – death in a family, traumatic experience.

What did that say about me?

I hated my heart-would. There was no reason for it to be as big as it was. I was at an amazing college. I had an amazing internship set up for the summer. Despite having a single parent, I never worried when my next meal was and I always got what I wanted for Christmas. My childhood was perfect. My mom was amazing. She taught me independence, my sense of humor, and always guided me when I had trouble. But she was also a tough love sort of person. She had the mind set of finishing things through and that the world wasn’t always kind so if you didn’t like how something was, you just had to push through it and do your best. It was that tough love that let me know that she would not be happy if I failed orgo.

So, I didn’t have a rational reason for my heart-wound to be as fucking big as it is. But I worried about my orgo exam. I worried about my mom’s reaction. I worried about saving enough money over the summer for next year’s rent. I worried about eating healthy and going to the gym for exercise. I worried about what I’m doing after I graduate. I worried about if any of this is even worth it because the earth is dying anyway and no matter what I do, I can’t change anything-

I took a breath.

My heart-wound throbbed.

I ignored it as usual.

My phone buzzed. It was a text from Elena, _Do you want to get lunch later? We could go to that café you love! I think they have salted caramel cupcakes._ She was the type to text with complete sentences and correct grammar.

 _No,_ I typed back, _i have 6 hours of classes and then im going to pass the fuck out_

 _That’s fair,_ she responded. I arrived at my classroom and sat down. The class rumbled with the frantic mutters of other students panicking over the exam. When the TA walked through the door, everyone fell silent. He looked at his watch and began passing out the exams. “You have 50 minutes,” he announced.

The rest of the day was a blur. I couldn’t remember what the questions on the exam were even if I was held at gunpoint. Normally I’d be more excited for biology because it was my favorite subject, but today I just prayed the professor didn’t ask me a question because I didn’t think my brain would function. My lab partners in my chem lab had already accepted that I didn’t understand anything and let me pretend I was useful by getting and cleaning glassware.

When I finished my classes, I did exactly what I told Elena I was doing: I went back to our apartment and passed the fuck out. I woke up several hours later to my door slowly creaking open. Elena peered out. “She lives!” she exclaimed. She disappeared and arrived back with our cat, Percival. Technically, Percival was her cat but I loved animals and was more than happy to share the dorm with him.

Elena deposited Percival on my lap. “Merry Christmas!” she exclaimed and skipped from the room again. He meowed in annoyance but settled down and began kneading me.

“Hello, good, Sir Percival,” I rubbed his head.

Elena reappeared and shoved a bowl of her homemade pasta sauce in my face. My stomach rumbled on cue. She opened her laptop and put on John Mulaney. “Alright fill your mouth with pasta, and after that I have a salted caramel cupcake in the fridge! This is now a stress-free zone!” She declared. Guilt flooded me. I knew that it took a lot of time and effort for Elena to make this sauce, and I had left a bunch of dishes in the sink so she had to clear them out before she could make the sauce. She also spent money on me and that café is expensive. Why does she even bother living with me? I’m such a burden-

“Hey,” Elena said. I looked at her. “Breathe,” She pointed at my heart-wound. “Don’t ignore it,” I took a breath.

* * *

The next morning, when I woke up and looked in the mirror, my heart-wound was a little smaller.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to leave constructive criticism. I am also new to posting on AO3 so please let me know how to improve tagging and other features.


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